


Eternal Almost (repost)

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Blair wallows in post-diss, post TSbBS depression, Jim does some reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternal Almost (repost)

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first crack at writing a Sentinel slash and it had some formatting issues and various other small problems that I didn't get a chance to fix until now. Feedback: [Margolia@lycos.com](mailto:Margolia@lycos.com)

## Eternal Almost (repost)

by Margolia

Author's website:  <http://wild.kaerichi.net>

* * *

Author's disclaimer: I don't own the boys, or any rights to them; Pet Fly does, but you all know that. 

** 

The Eternal Almost  
by: Margolia 

So, I had always figured that once the diss was done, signed, sealed, with a stamp of approval, that we could get on with life. We could, maybe, just be normal. Well, as normal as one geeky anthropologist and one stiff cop can be. 

I mean, we have this thing. I know it's there. I've never talked about it with Jim, I don't even know if he notices it, but it is there. But, honestly, you just can't go into these things with research subjects, it would seriously compromise and undermine your work. 

But, I figured that once that was done, out of the way, no longer an unspoken barrier between us, we could, you know, get on with things. Or The Thing. Whatever. 

But, how could I have known. Who would've guessed, who could've guessed that things would turn out the way they did: Mom and the publisher, the press conference, me lying, a fraud, the muscle in Jims jaw working overtime. No more Dr. Sandburg. No more Sentinels. Who couldve guessed. 

I mean, it really didn't come as all that much of a surprise. My life has a tendency to turn out a bit odd, shall we say? Or different, or complicated, irrational, confused, labyrinthian, messed up, fucked. Whatever. 

The thing is, my dissertation was good. I mean good. As in used in Intro Anthro classes all over the country, quoted and foot-noted, and me in comfortable research grants forever. Wer'e talking Geertz, Evans-Pritchard, Michael Herzfeld, Bateson, Myerhoff, Mentz good. It may sound a bit egotistic of me to talk like this, but I know a good work when I see one. It would've changed the face of anthropology as we know it and put the Post-Modernists to shame. 

And part of me should've known that it could never happen. We're talking about me here, Blair Sandburg, the eternal almost. And by the end, I was too enmeshed, to caught up in the whole Thing to see the forest for the trees. 

I don't know what I thought I was going to do after the diss. I mean, yeah, being a full-fledged professor at Rainier, doing 2-year field-work projects, or off on digs. But, seriously, I couldn't have done that. Not since it meant changing my life with Jim, being away from Jim for long stretches of time. 

Who was I kidding? Who I am kidding? The Thing was everything. Is everything. It's what kept me there through Alex, the fountain, the death, the shootings and druggings and kidnappings and jumping out of planes... and now the drudgery, the Academy, more shootings and kidnapping and bad guys with guns and short hair. 

I don't hate my life now. I rather enjoy being on the force, in Major Crimes, working beside Jim and Simon and Taggart and Megan and Rafe every day as an equal, not some tag-along, scruffy, crunchy, geeky observer with a ride-along. 

The thing I miss the most is the language, and the thinking. I used the word ubiquitous the other day and Simon looked at me as if I had spontaneously sprouted another head. 

And now here I am, sitting on the same couch in the same loft, drinking the same beer, thinking but not thinking. Jim is off somewhere, dinner with some chick from Forensics and I sit in the darkened loft with my beer and my empty, pointless thoughts. 

* * *

I come home to find the loft dark. Blair, I know is here. I pinpointed his heartbeat when I parked the truck. But where? Ah, sitting on the couch with a beer in the dark... wallowing. Lovely. 

"Hey Chief,"I say, for lack of any other greeting. The waves of self-pity flow off that man like the Pacific at high tide, washing over me and dragging me down in the undertow. Wish I was a better swimmer. 

He grunts as he heaves himself off the couch and heads into his room, shuts the door and makes going-to-bed noises. I know better. I know he barely sleeps anymore. How could I not know, I who can track that man anywhere? 

But I let him believe that hes fooled me, "Night Chief, see you in the morning." 

I believe I've killed that man. My Blair. Is gone. Gone with the diss, the PhD, the classes and books and students and research. And I was the one who killed him, leaving an empty shell with a badge and a gun and nothing that he wanted out of life. 

I knew it was going to happen. How could I have not known? It was in the cards, fated from that first meeting when I slammed him up against a wall. I, who can't have any real relationships, can't get close without fucking up, who could single-handedly bring down the Hindenburg. 

I should've seen it sooner, it was always there lurking on the edge of my vision. I should have warned him, stopped him, sent him away, anything to avoid this death, death by bits and pieces. I saved him by the fountain only to slowly kill him later. 

But, I let him in, let him get too close, lost my objectivity. Let myself get caught up in the rush of caring about someone and having that someone care about me, watch my back, try to make me eat healthy foods. I realized after I met Sandburg that I'd never had a friend in my life until him. It was a heady feeling, more addictive than any drug because with drugs you always come off the high, hit rock bottom, but I never did with Blair. He was unfaltering. 

The thing is he touched me. Still does. He didn't know it, doesn't know it. But, every time he's within the range of my senses he touches me, with every look, every pump of his heart, every whiff of him. He touches me so deeply that sometimes I think he's crawled inside my skin and forced all of me out. 

And I know, despite the badge and the gun and the cheery but somewhat forced smiles, that he's still an anthropologist deep down inside. I see it every time he looks at a stranger on the street. He's studying, cataloging, comparing, contrasting, and theorizing everything. But, it goes nowhere, just stays in his head and ferments. 

What have I done to him? It's 3 in the morning, neither of us is anywhere near sleep, and I know that I have killed him. 

Before I know it, I am down the stairs and outside his door with my hand raised to knock. And there I paused, awash with uncertainty. He's in there, wide awake, probably staring at the ceiling, judging from the sound of his breathing. 

"Chief?"I say, quietly, to the french doors. Who don't respond. "Blair?"I try again. 

"Jim? You ok, man?"He's trying to act as if I'd just woken him up. 

"Yeah I'm fine." 

"Then why're you up at 3am?"We're still talking through the closed door. 

"I just wondered if I could read your dissertation."I hear his breath catch at that. We haven't really talked about it since the press-conference, but I know he still has a copy, he wouldn't be able to throw something like that out. 

He's up now, rummaging around his room, his breathing's up, heart is racing. Why's he in such a panic? 

"It's okay, Chief. You don't have to show it to me. I just figured since it was such a big thing that maybe I should..."The door opens and a slightly disheveled Sandburg peers up at me as if seeing me for the first time in months, which I suppose he is. Cause it's the real Blair staring up at me, no the dead Officer Sandburg. Hooray for resurrection, again. 

"You sure man? Remember what happened when you read the first chapter, I mean, you sure?"He really nervous now, and not looking at me. 

"I'm sure, Blair."He hands it to me, a thick stack of papers in a spiral binding, still not looking at me. "Thanks,"I say and go settle myself on the couch to read. 

He stares at me for a good few minutes, then heads back to his bed to continue memorizing his ceiling. 

I read. And, several hours later, the sun is up, and I close the paper with two thoughts. Only two, which is impressive considering how much I've just crammed into my non-anthropological brain. 

One: this man is a fucking genius. Seriously. As I read, I began to forget that I was reading about myself, then I forgot that I was even reading, I just was. And I came to the end understanding it all, refreshed, and wanting to read it again. 

Two: Blair is in love with me. How odd to even think those words. I mean, I've loved him forever, probably since before we met, maybe before I was born. But I never, ever allowed myself to even think that he could love me. I mean, sure, as a friend and all that. He is that best and closest friend I've ever had. But, no, it's more than that. He is actually in love with me. It's there, written all over this paper. 

Just as I am fully understanding this new insight, Blair emerges from his room. Wary, eyes shrouded and sunken; he didn't sleep at all. And he looks as though he thinks that I'm going to eviscerate him or something equally as terrible. And I think that maybe I should share my thoughts on his dissertation with him. So I stabd up and do. 

His face lights up with number one and he is more alive than I think I have ever seen him. I think he just might cry. And, well, I dont exactly get two all the way out... I get to the part about him loving me (he looks as though he is really going to cry, or maybe die at that part) and then the part about me loving him (well, of course)... and then he is on me. 

He crossed the room in a flurry of hair (which has just started to grow back) and tears and limbs and the next thing I know, I've got an armful of teary Sandburg. He grabs onto me and holds so tight, his warm wet face burrowing into my neck... and I am filled with him and the joy of holding him so completely. He feels so good in my arms, no one has ever fit so well. 

* * *

Jim is reading my dissertation. Jim is reading my dissertation. Jim is reading my dissertation. Jim is reading... You're sounding like a broken record, Sandburg, move along. 

Ok, maybe I'll just die. That'd fix things. I wouldn't have to face Jim. Maybe I could die. Oh ground, open up and swallow me whole. Oh God, Allah, Jehovah, Buddha, whoever, come and take me now. Please. 

Oh no, that would be too easy. And your life has never been easy, has it Sandburg? You won't get out of this that easily. Think again. 

Jump off the balcony? I've gotten over the problem with heights since Peru. 

No, not high enough to do any damage, plus Jim is out there reading my disser..... oh, God, breathe Blair, he can hear you. 

Well, maybe I could just stay in my room forever. Shut myself in here and have Jim slip pancakes and other flat foods under the door. 

No, that won't work. Jimd break down the door. Plus I'd have to go to the bathroom sometime. 

And, just where did this come from anyway? Yeah, maybe we weren't getting on with our post-diss lives as I had dreamed, but we were getting on. Well, at least Jim was, and he believed that I was. And who I am to ruin someone's perfectly good and moderately useful disillusions? 

I didn't sleep at all. And then it was morning and there was no way to delay the inevitable, I'd have to see him sometime we live together, we work together, we're practically married... Oh God, thats got me hyperventilating again. 

Ok, square your shoulders Blair, deep calming breaths. He won't kill you. You're his Guide, he, your Sentinel and Blessed Protector. Oh please, whatever is blessed, protect me. 

He thinks I'm a genius. He liked it. He understood it? And read the whole thing and didn't fall asleep and... wow, I'm smiling, for the first time in months. I want to bounce and sing and laugh and... 

Oh shit, he's found me out, I'm a dead man, fuck the Blessed Protector, he's going to kill and then he's going to... wait, he loves me too?!?! 

And I'm across the room , stupid tears streaming down my cheeks, clinging onto him like there's no tomorrow. He smiles and then he is kissing me. And oh Lord is he kissing me. I don't think I've ever been kissed before. But, I'm kissing him back, our mouths meeting perfectly, tongues seeking and finding, and I'm hard as a rock in seconds flat. 

I've somehow ended up completely in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist, his hands are wound in my hair, mine are running across that strong beautiful back. Someone whimpers, someone moans, not sure who. And he's stumbling backwards, clumsy with my unbalanced weight. But, there it is, the couch. 

Now he's sitting and I'm straddling, our groins providing glorious friction, my hands are under his t-shirt, sweeping that broad muscled chest, almost hairless. I tug, and off with the shirt. And I find his nipples and pinch and rub and twist, and he's moaning my name now like it's a mantra, like it's the only thing holding him together. 

My shirt is gone, somewhere. Didn't notice that, and now his hands have moved to my ass, what a glorious feeling, he pulls me harder against him, increasing the friction and tension trapped between us. 

And our mouths have barely parted. But now, he pulls back from me, looking beautiful and wild, and kisses his way down my jawline to my neck and, oh my God how did he know to suck just there? Oh god, this is going to be my undoing. 

He's moving down now, down my neck to my chest. With his hands still kneading my ass, his tongues, nips, then sucks on nipple and I think I'm going to lose it right there. Dear Lord. And those are my hands, which seem strangely disconnected from my brain, running down his chest to his cock. 

And I tease his cock, rubbing the tenting material of his boxers over it, stroking it, playing. He throws back his head when I touch him. How wonderful that I can do that to him. 

I gently pull his erection through the fly of his boxers, and Jim ceases all movement, simply whimpering. I run my fingers over it, and it is beautiful, just like the rest of him. As I start to slowly fist it, I tell him that, stroking my thumb of the crown. He moans and mumbles something incoherent and thrusts into my hand. And I know what I want. I lean forward and whisper in his ear, running my tongue around shell of it. 

He looks at me, wild, scared, amazed, "Really?" 

"I love you,"is all I need say in reply. Then, my boxers are gone and he has one hand pumping my cock while the other one fingers my asshole (Oh My God, I'm going to die). Lube has magically appeared out of nowhere. Did he go get that or... oh, it is now being liberally spread on his cock and fingers and then my ass. 

And his fingers are ever-so-gently penetrating and stretching and oh, I need him in me now. I lift myself up, align, look him straight in the eye and sit down. 

* * *

I think I'm going to die. He is so tight, so warm, so perfect. I may be the one filling him, but he is so deep inside me now, there's no going back. 

I move, tentatively, not knowing how much (if any) experience he's had in this area, not wanting to hurt him. But, he'll have none of it. He rocks his hips as he starts to move up and down my cock. I'm so amazed at this, I can't move at first. But, then I realize this is all wrong. 

Grabbing him by the waist, I flip us over so he is under me. Perfect. He smiles and pushes his legs up to my shoulders, pulling me deeper. And that's all I need to let go. 

I start thrusting into him hard and deep. His eyes lock with mine and I know that this, that everything has been five longs years of foreplay. 

I pound his ass hard, that's what he wants, it's what we both want and need. I change my angle slightly, thrust in and his entire body spasms around me as he cries out. Found his prostate, well done Jim. And so, I continue to relentlessly hit his prostate over and over, thinking only of giving him pleasure, making this perfect for him. Of course, along the way, he is driving me crazy, his hands running up and down my torso and back, his ankles locked behind my back, his eyes, his ass that grips me hard, milking me, enticing me to go deep and never leave. 

I reach down and pull his cock, and its over all too soon, but much to late in the grander scheme of things. He is coming all around me, screaming, cum spurting on my stomach and his, his ass now a vice grip, holding my cock in place, and I'm lost too, and I'm coming hard, so hard I can feel it in my toes and I know I will feel this orgasm into next week. 

I flip us over and rest him on my chest, still buried deep inside him. Slowly, our breathing steadies out, I can think again. He raises his head to look at me, and my breath catches in my chest. The love there is brighter than any sunshine and so obvious I don't know how I could've missed it. 

"So, did you actually read my dissertation, or is that just what you say whenever you want to get an anthropologist into bed?" 

I start to object, "No of course not, I..."but then I can see the laughter in his eyes. He knows. And I join in his laughter. "I really do love you, you know." 

"I know now, wish I'd known sooner."He is wistful, "But the diss,"which is pillowing my head at the moment, "was always in the way."We both laugh at that. 

"Hmmm. I think I could stay like this forever.... Chief, uh, you do know this is forever, right?" 

"Yeah, I know. Wouldn't want it any other way."He kisses me lightly with that, and I sigh happily. 

* * *

He sighs contentedly as I snuggle deeper, better fitting myself into his big arms, like two lost puzzle pieces, and I hear it. 

"Did you hear that, Jim?" I ask, looking up at his face which is alight with love that makes my heart do acrobatics. 

"Hear what? I didn't hear anything. And if I didn't hear anything, Chief, there's nothing to hear. 

"No listen, there it is."I'm smiling broadly now, I must look like the Cheshire cat. Jim looks lost. 

"What?" 

"The pieces of our lives finally clicking into place." 

~End~ 

* * *

End Eternal Almost (repost) by Margolia: Margolia@lycos.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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